Fading Shadows Whisper Goodbye
by maxwelljay
Summary: Blake lays next to an unconscious Yang and attempts to make sense of everything that has happened. How will she ever be able to fix any of this? How do you protect someone from yourself? How do you run away from someone who holds your heart?
1. Forgive me, Yang

Blake reaches up, needing something, anything, to ground her. Even as she thinks this, she knows it's a lie; she doesn't need just anything, or just anyone, she need's Yang Xao Long. The girl who so stupidly rushed blindly into a fight to save her. The girl who now only has one hand because of her, and yet Blake holds it anyway, using what isn't hers to use, taking and taking and taking.

Slowly, Blake curls into herself. The guilt, fear, and pain pressing in on her, but she doesn't let go of the girl's hand. The girl who taught her to trust people again. The girl who burned so brightly that now she's burned herself out. The girl who she promised herself she wouldn't run from, because how can you run from someone who holds your heart?

But Blake knows she won't be able to take the way Yang will look at her when she wakes up. All Yang will be able to see is the girl she couldn't save. Every time she will look at Blake and see her own failures. And, slowly she will begin to resent Blake, she knows this without a doubt; she can feel it in her bones. Because it's her fault that Yang lost her arm, it is her fault that Yang can no longer burn so brightly, it's her fault that Yang's wings have been clipped just as she was learning to fly.

The only thing worse than running away is seeing Yang slowly begin to hate her. And it's not even Yang's fault that she will grow to resent her, Blake deserves it, she deserves all of this; for running too often, for trusting the wrong people, and loving people she shouldn't have. And maybe if Blake had just kept herself far enough away from Yang, smiled a little less at her horrible puns, kept herself at arm's length, Yang would be ok. Or maybe she just should have never come to Beacon, never even stepped into Yang's life. The thought twists her stomach – that she is completely and utterly responsible for this, for hurting the person she cares most about in this entire goddamn world. And with this thought, the tears start. And she feels whatever was left of her resolve crumble. She can't go back and stop Yang from getting close to her, she can't go back and stop Yang from getting hurt, but she can keep her from getting hurt more.

Slowly, Blake let's go of Yang's hand, attempting to remember its warmth and memorize the way her fingers fit with hers. Shakily, she stands, her legs barely holding her up and her eyes still blurry with tears. She can feel everyone's eyes on her, all of the questions that she doesn't quite have answers for. Sun steps forward and reaches for her; with her eyes still on the ground she takes a step back.

"You shouldn't be standing." He questions more than states. She looks up at him, tears still in her eyes, ignoring his warning as she gently grips her stomach – still feeling blood ooze out of the wound her aura hasn't quiet healed yet.

"Take care of her, please." She whispers. His eyes widen in realization but she's already gone, all that's left of her is a fading shadow and three words quietly whispered to the girl on the ground.

"Forgive me, Yang."


	2. I Miss You

A cool breeze drifts through the room, rustling red curtains and jet black hair. Blake attempts to brush the strands out of her face but a few remain, stuck to the tear tracks running down her cheeks. It doesn't matter anyway, she thinks bitterly, no one is here to see. She is completely and utterly alone. The city's been evacuated, the campus desolate, the room she shared with three girls who taught her to trust again is far too silent. The only sounds in this entire god forsaken city are her occasional sobs and the howls of grim. The very same grim that no doubt can sense her pain and will find her soon enough. But at this point, she tells herself she does not care. Let them come and force her out of this place that is far too familiar and yet no longer familiar enough – with all its life gone; no giggling Ruby, no Weiss attempting to hide a smile as she tells off Ruby, no Yang smiling at her. More tears streak down her face as regret pools in her stomach.

She shouldn't have come here, the memories are too fresh. The shadows on the walls still send a jolt of hope through her before she realizes it's not them, it's just the curtains billowing. The creaking of that stupid bunk bed Ruby hung from the ceiling makes her think it's the very same ball of red slipping off it to greet her with a smile and a laugh. She had hoped it would be comforting here, that this place where she had smiled and laughed more often in those short few months than she had in the longest time would somehow save her. But she was wrong; this place is dangerous, filled with land mines shaped like red sweatshirts, vials of dust, and strands of yellow hair. There is a bed she know will smell far too much like Yang, and despite knowing all her warmth is long gone from its sheets, all she wants is to crawl under its covers and remind herself of the warmth she felt in her hand, the warmth she has already begun to forget no matter how hard she tries to cling to it. But she restrains herself, instead sitting by the window under the brilliant moonlight, chilled by the insistent breeze flowing through the open windows she came through.

She tells herself she can't go to the bed because she's not sure she'd ever leave. But in reality, she knows she sits on the ground staring at the bed of the girl she can't stop thinking about, because if she gets in the bed it will be ruined – slowly replaced by her own scent. And then… there will be nothing left of Yang; just shadows of memories and whispered goodbyes. Because she can't go back; she reminds herself this all the time, steeling herself against the pull that reckless blond has on her heart. She's sure Yang hates her, if not for hurting her then for running away. And Blake knows she can't face that; the anger, questions, and hate that would burn in Yang's eyes as she looked at her. The mere thought makes her choke upon her own tears. So this room is all she has left of Yang, all she has left of team RWBY. She clings desperately to the memories that slowly rip her apart.

She's not sure when she got up, or quite how she sees where she's going through the blur of tears. It's as if her feet know where she needs to go, and somehow she ends up standing at the edge of that girl's bed, running her fingers hesitantly across the comforter as if they may disappear at any moment. Slowly, she slips underneath the covers, tears continuing to trek down her face despite her eyes being closed. After a beat of silence, holding her breath tightly, she exhales and finally takes a deep breath, curled up in blankets that are not her own and a smell that is unequivocally Yang. For a moment it feels as if, maybe, she was once again in the bright girl's embrace. She feels like she's finally home, and it is with this thought that she feels completely alone; caught in the shadow of the memory of a brilliant girl. This isn't Yang, just some pathetic remnant that she so desperately clings too, and with every moment she lays here, it slowly becomes less and less Yang. She is ruining it, just like everything else – taking, and taking, and taking. But, despite all of this, she stays; attempting to remember every detail before it's gone, just like her.


End file.
